


Not Enough

by montecarlos



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-06
Updated: 2016-05-06
Packaged: 2018-06-06 19:30:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6766954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/montecarlos/pseuds/montecarlos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carlos has always been there for Dany, through the good times and the bad. Dany needs him more than ever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Enough

**Author's Note:**

> This is more of a love letter to Dany, of sorts. I hope I've done the situation justice. I was genuinely sickened and heartbroken for him and this fic is the result of this.  
> Enjoy! :)

Carlos feels the ice sink through his chest as he hears the news, the news that Max won’t be in the other Toro Rosso, that his best friend will be in the other car. He ignores the flashing pictures on the screen, the wide smile on Max’s face as he’s guided through the Red Bull factory. Carlos remembers going years ago - when he was fifteen, when he was in the Academy, when Daniil and he - it hurts to even think about the Russian, it hurts to think about him inside his apartment in Monaco all alone, tears falling down his pale cheeks.   
Carlos remembers the first time that he saw Dany cry. They were sixteen, they were sharing a motorhome together. Carlos remembers walking in, seeing the glittering tears rolling down Dany’s cheeks.    
  
“What’s wrong?” He had asked.    
  
“Nothing,” Dany had replied, wiping away the tears with his hand, his eyes fixed on the floor. “I just had something in my eye,”   
  
“You’re a terrible liar,” Carlos had said softly, dropping next to the Russian.    
  
Dany swiped at his face with his hand, his hazel-green eyes landing on the Spaniard. “And you’re persistent...is that how you say it?”   
  
“What happened?” Carlos had asked softly.    
  
“My grandfather passed away this morning,” Dany had said, his eyes meeting his trainers.    
  
“I’m sorry,” Carlos had whispered, his hand closing over Dany’s. The Russian’s hands were warmer than he’d expected.    
  
They’d become closer after that. Dany had started to open up to him, to sit next to him, his thighs brushing against Carlos’s, started to talk about his life in Russia before he came to Italy. Carlos had listened with wide eyes and open ears. It wasn’t until a year later that Dany had kissed him - it was hesitant, a tentative brush of lips together, Carlos had allowed Dany’s cracked, dry lips to ghost over his own, his hand to fist into his racing overalls. It felt familiar, it felt nice, like Dany was supposed to kiss him. However, Dany had pulled away, his cheeks red, his eyes wide. Carlos’s fingers curled around the pale wrist, his eyes glanced into hazel-green ones.    
  
“Don’t go, stay with me,”  
  
"I promise,"  
  
And Dany had.    
  


* * *

  
  
Dany isn’t answering his phone. Carlos curses under his breath in Spanish as he tosses his iPhone onto the passenger seat of his Porsche, the voicemail of his best friend repeating over and over in his head.    
  
“Hello, you’ve reached the mailbox of Daniil Kvyat, please leave your message after the tone…”   
  
He presses his foot down on the accelerator, urging his car forward. He tries not to think about Dany alone in his apartment, tries not to think about the Russian doing something stupid, tries not to imagine Dany in his apartment with his hazel-green eyes lifeless - he urges away the panic, urges away the desperation clawing through his chest as he picks up his phone and tries calling Dany once more, only for it to go through to voicemail.    
  
“Shit,” Carlos hisses under his breath as he urges his car forward, the cold panic spilling through his chest.    
  


* * *

  
  
He finds himself in Monaco a few hours later, exhausted, the sweat clinging to the back of his neck as he knocks on the door quietly. He tries not to think about Dany sitting somewhere inside his apartment - he’s still not unpacked all his boxes - tries not to think about his best friend hurting. Carlos checks his phone once more - he’s got a few missed calls from Fernando and from Max - the hurt tugs in his chest at the sight of the name across his screen - but nothing from the person he wants to hear. He feels the tears prick up in the corners of his eyes as he knocks again, pleading for Dany to open the door. But there’s no answer. With the panic still punching through his veins, in desperation, he tries the door handle. The lock clicks open and Carlos takes a deep breath before he enters.    
Dany’s apartment is in complete darkness, the silence enveloping the entire space. Carlos glances down to see today’s mail still in a heap on the doormat. He picks it up and places it on the side table as he moves forward into his best friend’s apartment.    
  
“Dany?” He calls out, keeping his voice soft. “Dany?”   
  
There’s still no answer.    
  
“Dany? Please-” Carlos calls out as he moves into the lounge. It’s in complete darkness, everything in its usual place. It’s too quiet - Dany usually has soft rock music on in the background but there’s nothing but silence. Carlos tries to push away the panic deep in his chest as he glances around the darkened room, his eyes sliding over to the couch. He sees the french windows open, the drapes fluttering gently in the breeze. He moves closer to the open doors, heart seized with fear as he slowly moves out onto the balcony. He’s been here several times before - he and Dany kissed on this balcony on the day he got the keys, he’s drank champagne and eaten homemade paella on this balcony with Dany. He notices a dark figure slumped over the side, his feet hanging over the wall.    
  
“Dany-” Carlos calls out in panic. “Dany-”   
  
The figure’s shoulders stiffen ever so slightly underneath his baggy hoodie, a hoodie that Carlos recognises as his own.    
  
“Chili?” It’s his childhood nickname, the only name that he’s ever liked - it sounds wrong tinged with pain and upset. It sounds watery and weak, it makes Carlos’s chest ache, at the sound of his best friend feeling so defeated. “Chili, what are you doing here? You should be in London-”   
  
“I had to see you, I had to make sure you were alright-” Carlos says, quietly. “I had to make sure that you-”   
  
“I’m okay,” Dany says quietly, not moving from the wall. “Well, as okay as I can be-”   
  
“Dany-”   
  
“I don’t want pity, Chili. Jenson’s been banging on the door, everyone has been calling my phone...Seb, Dan, even  _ him _ ,” Dany says, his voice lowering over the last word. Carlos spots the bottle of beer next to him, half open. “He called me to say how sorry he was, how he never meant for any of this to happen,”   
  
“Dany, please-” Carlos moves closer to the Russian, gazing out over the view of Monaco before them. It’s beautiful.   
  
“I could have handled them kicking me out for you,” Dany surveys the view before them, his eyes filling with tears. “I could have dealt with giving it up for you, not for him though,”   
  
Carlos doesn’t say anything. He moves closer, climbing up onto the balcony wall next to his best friend, his thigh brushing against the older man’s, his feet dangling over the edge. “I thought I was doing better, I thought I had a chance, but it was all planned. They wanted me out, Chili, they were just waiting for the opportunity-”   
  
“Dany, I’m sorry,” Carlos whispers. “I’m sorry they did that to you, it’s disgusting, I’m so sorry,” He moves out his hand to brush his fingers over Dany’s.    
  
“Why are you sorry, did you kick me out?” Dany says, the tears falling down his cheeks. “Maybe I deserved this,”   
  
“You didn’t deserve this, you made one mistake on the track-”   
  
“I had an idea even then,” Dany says quietly. “They kept pulling Max in, keeping me out of team discussions, I knew that Russia was my chance to prove myself-”   
  
“That’s why you tried to get past everyone,” Carlos says, his thumb tracing over Dany’s pale skin.    
  
“I had to do something, I was losing all control and then I hit Seb, then I couldn’t stop anything from happening then, I just thought about how I was going to lose everything-” His voice cracks on the last word as Carlos’s fingers move over his skin, watching his best friend fall apart.    
  
“You haven’t lost everything, you still have this chance to prove yourself to everyone, we can go faster than the Red Bulls, you just need to believe in yourself, like I believe in you,”   
  
“I don’t deserve you,” Dany whispers, his voice dry, tears still falling down his cheeks. “I should be alone,” He moves to pull his hand away but Carlos holds onto it, his fingers still stroking circles over the pale skin.    
  
“You deserve the best, Dany,” Carlos whispers. “I’m not leaving you, when have I ever left you? Remember in Russia when I crashed, or that night when Mitch dumped me? You were there for me, you were by my side through those bad times,”   
  
“I know,” Dany says, sighing heavily. “I just...I feel so useless, like I don’t deserve your attention,”   
  
“You always are worthy of my attention, principe,” Carlos says, using his old nickname for his best friend, his thumb ghosting over Dany’s thumb. He leans into the taller man, smiling as Dany allows him to rest his head against his shoulder. Dany’s not big on touching, on hugging, but he’s always allowed Carlos to touch him, to hold his hand, to hug him. “You are enough, don’t let Helmut fucking Marko tell you any different,”   
  
“Should you be badmouthing your next boss?” Dany says quietly.    
  
Carlos shakes his head. “I’m not going near that  coño, Dany. I don’t care about him, I care about _you_ ,”   
  
“You shouldn’t-” Dany begins, pulling away. “Nobody should care about me, I’m nothing-”   
  
“Don’t you ever say that,” Carlos whispers back, his eyes dark. “Don’t you ever say that, you’re Daniil fucking Kvyat, you’re incredible and I know you won’t believe me. I don’t expect you to, I don’t expect my words to magically make you feel better but there’s people that care, people that value you, people that love you,”   
  
Dany’s hazel-green eyes lock on Carlos, he laughs, shaking his head. “Why would anyone-”   
  
“I love you,” Carlos says, his finger stroking over Dany’s wrist. “I’ve always loved you. I don’t want that to be the magical words that make you feel better but I had to say it,” Carlos begins but Dany moves in closer, his eyes still locked on the Spaniard.    
  
“I love you too, loved you ever since we were kids,” He says breathlessly, their gazes meet, Dany’s breath dances over his tanned cheek. “I remember when you were fifteen and I had such a crush on you, I used to blush whenever you came into the room,”   
  
“I remember when you were fifteen. You were this lanky kid with long legs and a book in your hand,” Carlos says, a curl of a smile dancing over his lips as Dany’s hand moves up tentatively to brush against Carlos’s cheek, his calloused thumb rubbing over the smooth skin. “I remember looking at you and thinking I couldn’t be without you,”   
  
Tears begin to fall down Dany’s cheeks once more. “Carlos, I’m sorry,”   
  
“For what?” Carlos asks, eyebrow raised.    
  
Dany leans in, closing the gap between them, pressing his lips against the younger man’s. Carlos melts against him, Dany’s hand moving to curl into silky soft curls, Carlos’s moan brushing against his lips. It’s a closed mouth kiss, innocent, chaste. It’s like the ones they’ve shared before - like the ones they shared as interested fifteen year olds in bunks, the ones they shared in the booth in the Arden motorhome in their matching overalls after they won the title together. But this time, there’s something different, something below the surface - Dany feels the warmth curl over his chest as he pulls away, glancing down at Carlos’s lips for a moment before meeting his gaze.   
  
"Don't go, stay with me," He whispers to Carlos. Carlos nods, his fingers tightening around Dany's, remembering the promise from years ago. Dany's thoughts are still on his future, still on the car he didn’t get to prove himself in, but looking into Carlos’s warm brown eyes, his tanned hand still curled around Dany’s, he’s not okay, not yet, but he knows he’s in the right place to heal and to come back even stronger than before.   



End file.
